A Teleri Treasury
by Rhyselle
Summary: A collection of ficlets centered around Olwe, his family, and his people. Written for the NaQuaWriMo Challenge.
1. 1 Looking West

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_1. Looking West_

"I should have expected to find you here, beloved."

Olwë slid his arm around the slender form of his wife as she dropped to her knees beside him, and pulled her close against his side. He smiled as she dropped a kiss on top of his head, but his grey eyes never left the waves that caressed the western shoreline of the isle, nor the rugged mountains that marked the horizon. The green-grey swells were backlit by the golden light that spilled through the Calacirya and marked a pathway across the intervening sea.

"So, when do we leave?" she asked.


	2. 2 Ships

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_2. Ships_

Olwë looked up from the model of the white ships which were taking form on the starlit sands, smiling to see an elfling running along the tideline. The elleth stooped every so often to pick up shells and wave-polished stones before dropping them for the next treasure.

The king looked at the model and sighed. "I just don't understand how these ships will cross to Aman when we are to make no oars nor sails."

A voice, like the rush of the sea, filled his mind. _Have faith. The means will be provided when the ships are complete, my son._


	3. 3 Ropes

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_3. Ropes_

Olwë would never, ever forget that moment, not even in the last days before the renewing of Arda.

The ropes lay in pale, neat coils on the white deck of each ship, the bight ends on top, ready to grasp. There had been incredulous questions and not-quite-hidden derision from the shipwrights when Olwë had given the directive that ells and ells of hithlain be fashioned.

"Lord Ulmo commands it," he'd replied, and turned to doing his share of the work.

When Manwë's swans caught up the ropes, he laughed with awe and joy—and not a little justification.


	4. 4 Swimming

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_4. Swimming_

"Atto! Atto! Watch me swim!" Eärwen crowed as she splashed past him, while the royal family played along the slowly moving isle's shoreline.

"I am looking, my little one." Olwë laughed, treading water, as the young elleth pretended to be a dolphin and bobbed up and down in the water. "Don't go too far, Eärwen, for the current is dangerous further out." He turned his head to see where her brothers and his wife had gotten to, and then looked back at his only daughter to see a pair of dolphins playing tag with each other, circling around the silver-haired child.

The larger dolphin suddenly transformed into a beautiful and familiar figure, who caught Eärwen up in her arms.

"Uinen!" Olwë gasped just as the other dolphin raced up, threatening to run into him. It veered off at the very last second, sending a huge splash of salt water into his face.

When Olwë stopped spluttering and had dashed the water from his eyes, he felt himself grabbed in a pair of strong arms, which swept him up into a hug.

"Did you miss me?" Ossë grinned at the dumbfounded expression on Olwë's face, then he sobered. "I missed you."

A/N: Takes place not too long before Ossë begs the Teleri to reconsider going all the way to Aman and Olwe asks Lord Ulmo to let the isle stay in the bay of Eldamar, and it becomes Tol Eressea.


	5. 5 Refusal, Reconsideration, Repentence

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_5. Refusal, Reconsideration, Repentance_

"Succor those kinslayers?" Olwë spat, clenching his fingers tightly about the crushed parchment that had been sealed with the Elder King's sigil."You must be jesting, my lord!"

Eonwë looked with pity upon the Teleri king, and said gently but firmly, "It is no jest, Olwë, but a summons to all of the kindred Eldar."

Olwë flung the scroll to the floor at Eonwë's feet. "My people have shed enough blood, no thanks to those Heldecari! My harbour is still stained with it! Only now have elfings enough been born and grown and learned sufficient to replace those forbears slain by Fëanor's and Fingon's hands at sail and oar when we venture beyond the harbour arch! And you ask me to sacrifice them in order to bring back those—!"

He threw up his hands and stalked to the window that overlooked the broad harbour, tears of rage and grief staining his fair face. Under the light of the stars, the swan-prowed vessels gleamed as they rocked gently in their berths. "No! I will not let my people die all over again for those Rebels!"

Eonwë bowed to the distraught king, then vanished to take Olwë's reply to Lord Manwë.

* * *

Olwë sat at the end of the breakwater, uncaring that the salt spray was soaking his embroidered and bejeweled clothing. He stared out to the moonlit grey swells of the sea, hating all that had come after the Darkening, still furious at the demand that had been made of him by the Valar.

"Oh, that I had stayed on Tol Eressëa with my people!" he cried aloud to the night sky.

"Then I might never have been born, Uncle."

Olwë started, almost falling from the rocks into the sea. Deceptively strong hands caught him and pulled him back to safety.

"I do not think that Ossë would let you drown, Uncle, but I wouldn't be surprised if he played with you before helping you back to shore." The elleth who supported him as he found his feet smiled at him, grey eyes sparkling for a moment, before taking on a more somber mien.

"Elwing." He was heartstruck again, as he had been the moment he'd laid eyes on her when she'd been brought before him upon her arrival in Alqualonde. He could see much of his brother in her features, despite the dark hair that proclaimed her Noldorin bloodlines—or perhaps her mortal heritage.

She seated herself next to him, and leaned against his shoulder. "Eärendil was going to come talk to you, but he saw your lovely ships and I couldn't pry him away from the shipwrights."

Sliding an arm around her waist, Olwë found himself chuckling, despite himself. "I wondered why I hadn't seen him for some time. But," he looked down at her lovely face, "that's not why you followed me all the way out here, to tell me of your frustrations with your mariner husband."

Elwing shook her head. "It's not." She looked east, and suddenly sniffled."I just realized that today is my sons' begetting day, and I don't know if they live or are in the Halls of Mandos. And I am forbidden to return to Middle-Earth to fetch them back here with me."

She began to weep, and he held her close, stricken.

* * *

In the throne room in Ilmarin, Olwë bowed deeply before the Elder King, afraid to look up into the Vala's face.

"Forgive me, Lord, for my intemperate words when I received thy command. I give thee our ships to carry thine hosts to battle in Middle-earth." He took a deep breath, then begged, "But, if thou wilt, grant that my people remain with the fleet, and not be part of the fighting, lest they be tempted to revenge against those exiles who stained our harbour with Teleri blood."

Silence fell and, despairing of forgiveness, Olwë stared down at the intricate lapis lazuli tiles that decorated the floor upon which he knelt.

The Elder King gazed upon the silver-haired King, and took pity upon him."Thy fleets we accept with gratitude, and the boon that thou hast requested is granted, for thou hast abandoned thine anger, and look now to healing."

Tears trickled down Olwë's face as Lord Manwë opened his arms and drew him up into his embrace.

"It is not thy part to set foot nor eyes on Middle-earth, my child. For thee will be the harder task of waiting for thy people—and thy ships—to sail home."


	6. 6 Farewell

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_6. Farewell  
_

The soldiers were no longer encamped along the shoreline north and south of the harbour; the neat rows of white tents that had recently covered the jewel-sands were now packed inside the holds of the fleet, along with armour and countless weapons. The troops who had dwelled therein had boarded the last of the ships just as Arien guided the Sun over the eastern horizon.

Most of the armada was already beyond the breakwaters, but two swan ships were still tied on either side of the most prominent pier, their gangplanks ready to be hoisted once their captains were aboard. They gleamed, golden in the dawn light, the hawsers that bound them against the dock manned by sailors eager to set sail.

On the quay, Olwë watched as his sons embraced then turned to board their respective ships. Their practical clothing was a contrast to the blue and grey formal robes that he and his wife, Lirillë, wore in honor of those who sailed to destroy Morgoth's evil and succor those elves and men who dwelt in fear.

_"May the journey be blest and thy return be swift," he whispered, weeping, holding Lirillë and his daughter close to his side._


	7. 7 Return

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

__

7. Return

They appeared with the dawn, a smudge on the horizon, backed by the glory of Anar, and the lighthouse master ran all the way to the palace to tell the king what he'd seen while tending his light.

Olwë barely waited for the last words to leave the excited ellon's mouth before he was racing to the stairs of the tower that bore his name, leaving his breakfast, uneaten, on the table in the family dining room. Lirillë, Eärwen and his daughters-in-law were close on his heels.

"Can you see them, Atto? Look!" Earwen cried, leaning over the sill of the east facing window.

Olwë caught her around the waist, drawing her back to safety as the others crowded around him. He squinted past the glare of the sun, and began to count masts.

How many would come back? Lord Manwë had decreed that none of the Teleri were to fight, but accidents happened. Even in the best of times, Ossë would lose his temper and the ships would suffer for it, losing crew members to the hungry waves and wind.

The gulls in the harbour suddenly were aloft, racing towards the approaching fleet; only to scatter as an immense eagle flew out of the sun straight towards Alqualondë, calling out,"Rejoice and be glad, for the Hosts are victorious, and the winds bring home those for whom you have long waited!"

Olwë pulled Lirillë closer to his side, giving her a joyful kiss, then resumed counting the returning ships.

A/N: I can't get the stupid document editor here to turn off the italics for the body text of this ficlet. I apologize to those who find reading italics difficult. I will endeavor to repair the italics problem ASAP.


	8. 8 Listening

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_8. Listening_

"Atto?"

Olwë looked up from the ledger he was perusing, took one look at his son-in-law and immediately dismissed the clerk of the exchequer, promising that they would meet later in the day to discuss restoration of the war-battered fleet.

"Come in, Arafinwë." He busied his hands with pouring wine as the haggard High King of the Noldor crossed the room. "You look like you could use this, hinya." He carried both cups to the broad window seat that graced his study, and beckoned to the younger elf to join him.

He'd rather expected the golden-haired Noldor to speak to him before this. His own sons had come, one at a time, in the first few days after the fleet's return, to softly tell of their experiences while across the sea; seeking comfort in confession in their father's arms.

Some of what they had related made Olwë's blood run chill, for even though they had not fought in the many battles that led up to the capture of Morgoth, there had been conflict along the shorelines, and they'd had to defend the ships. But Arafinwë had not only fought, he had seen the horror of Angband when the Hosts of Valinor had broken through. And Olwë suspected that he'd not unburdened himself to anyone since his return.

The wine eventually loosened Arafinwë's tongue and tears. Olwë closed his eyes, repulsed by the images that arose in his mind as the words of things an elf should never have seen or experienced poured out. He didn't want to know of such dreadfulness, but as he held his son-in-law close, golden head tucked beneath his chin, he listened; taking on the burden willingly as penance for the years of peace he'd had in Alqualondë, while those he loved had endured the war.

_A/N: I was thinking today of how many times I've hugged and listened to my foster-brother who was injured by a mortar-round in Baghdad about a year and a half ago. His physical injuries are long healed, but he is still healing from the mental trauma of his war. Then Olwë began to tell me of Arafinwë's return..._


	9. 9 Grieving

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

__

_9. Grieving_

On the high day, Olwë slipped out of the palace, refusing an escort, and made his way north along the jewel-strewn beach to where a headland projected out into the surf. Great basalt columns were strewn about from the erosion of the waves, and he clambered across them until he'd achieved his objective, a hexagonal stump that would allow him to dangle his legs in the surf, and to commune with the Sea.

Sometimes, Ossë would come to speak with him, temporarily abandoning his oversight of the seas along the coasts of Beleriand. _No, Lindon_, Olwë corrected himself, _for Beleriand is no more._

And neither was his brother. Silent tears wet his cheeks as he stared east at the distant blur where the cloudy sky met the horizon. That particular grief was old enough that he no longer felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest, but the ache remained, and would, he suspected, for however many yeni it was before Elwë was released from the Halls of Mandos.

A wave, much higher than the rest that flung themselves at the barrier of the Pelori, soaked him to the waist, almost like arms embracing him, and he allowed it to pull him with its retreat into the foam-laden water, letting the salt of the sea replace the taste of salt from his tears.

He swam, diving deep until his lungs finally protested, then making his way back to the surface to fight with the currents that threatened to drag him into the tumble of rocks or far out to sea.

When he finally tired, he made his way back to his 'thinking rock'. As he began to haul himself onto it, a large, strong hand seized his wrist and pulled him up, to sit, dripping, in front of the incarnate form of Lord Ulmo.

"Thank you, my lord—" Olwë began. Then, as his eyes met those of the Vala, a memory from when he had departed Middle-earth forever drifted from the depths of his mind, breaching like one of the great Singers whose voices sent alien yet comforting songs through the sea.

_"I—I miss my brother, lord." An odd expression crossed the Vala's face for a moment and Olwë thought he heard the words__*As I miss mine.*_

Olwë took Ulmo's hand and drew him down to sit next to him. "It's all right to miss him, lord. He did terrible things, but, still, he was your elder brother, and you loved him once."

Pain filled Ulmo's voice. "I know that we had no choice in expelling him past the Door of Night, for Arda's sake and the sake of you Children. Yet, I love him for what he was, although I hate what he has chosen to become."

Olwë put his arm across Ulmo's shoulders, and pulled the Vala against his side, just as he had Arafinwë and his sons. He rested his chin on the seaweed-green hair, and wept himself as Ulmo grieved.


	10. 10 Sailing Lesson

Disclaimer: This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**A Teleri Treasury**

by Rhyselle

_10. Sailing Lesson_

"One would think you've never been in a boat before, Arafinwë." Olwë trimmed the sail of the small craft, adjusted the tiller, and tilted his face up to the sun.

The Noldo flushed, but didn't let go of his death grip on the edge of his seat. When Olwë looked directly at his passenger, he could easily see the poorly hidden unease in Arafinwë's grey eyes. "You haven't," he stated.

"No." Arafinwë dropped his gaze to the smooth white deck of the sailboat, embarrassed.

Olwë took pity on the younger elf and adjusted the sails so the sleek wooden hull wasn't racing quite so fast across the sea-green swells, and turned their course towards the more sheltered waters of the harbour. "Out of curiosity, why didn't you say anything before we set out?"

He couldn't help chuckling when Arafinwë admitted, "I didn't want Eärwen to think me completely inept."

"Well, then, my son-in-law to be, let me be your teacher. Come, sit next to me." Olwë pointed to the empty bench on the other side of the helm. "Now, the winds draw us forward as they flow across the sails, but we use this, the tiller, to make our direction…"


	11. 11 Escape Attempt

**Disclaimer:** This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**Escape Attempt**

by Rhyselle

"And just where do you think you are going?" Olwë hid a smile at the guilty expressions on Eärwen and Arafinwë's faces. Behind them, in merrymaking was still going on in the palace ballroom and gardens, but the quay where Olwë's sailboat was berthed appeared deserted save for the silver-haired king.

"Ada!" Eärwen's fair face went pink as she glanced up at her newlywed husband.

"Daughter!" Olwë relented and smiled at the couple, opening his arms to them. He embraced them and then, keeping his arms about their shoulders, walked them to where the flower bedecked sailboat was moored. "You can sail away as you planned, but your Ammë and I were just making certain that you hadn't forgotten anything you'll need."

Lirillë stepped off of the boat onto the pier, beaming at the younger elves.

Arafinwë blinked, "But—how did you know? We kept our plan secret from everyone."

Olwë clapped the prince on the shoulder, grinning. "That's my secret. Just get on board before the guests get curious." He kissed his daughter on the brow, and his new son likewise. "Be happy, my children. May the One bless you both." Once the couple had boarded, Olwë and Lirillë released the hithlain mooring ropes, and the elegant craft drifted away from the pier.

"We'll give you two weeks before we send out search parties," Olwë called as the Noldo and his bride sailed off into the starlit night. He watched them out of sight, holding his own wife close.

(written Nov. 11, 2008)


	12. 12 Squall

**Disclaimer:** This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**Squall**

By Rhyselle

The storm came out of nowhere, catching Olwë by surprise as he secured the fish in the water well on the foredeck. "Findaráto!" he shouted over the noise of the sudden squall, "start drawing in the lines, we've got to go back to the harbour!"

A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that his young grandson looked a bit green as the sailboat was tossed about, but the young prince gamely began to haul in the fishing lines on the starboard side of the vessel.

Olwë turned to pull in the lines that dangled on the starboard side, and wondered just what had upset Ossë so much. It was rare that there would be no warning of an incoming storm, and this one looked bad. He gave a glance at the roiling clouds that were racing in and decided to cut the fishing lines instead of trying to pull them in. He drew the knife from his belt and leaned over to slice the thread-fine hithlain, just as he heard something aloft crack.

Before he could look up, the mast top crashed down on the back of his head and shoulders. The last thing he heard was Findaráto crying "Anatar!"

TBC

(written Nov. 12, 2008)


	13. 13 Trust

**Disclaimer:** This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**Trust**

by Rhyselle

_This can't be Mandos. I hurt too much. And I'm cold. And wet._

Olwë could feel the wooden deck beneath him, somewhat padded by what he assumed were the hithlain blankets from the storage spaces beneath the stern seats by the tiller, rocking gently. _The storm is over._

A familiar high pitched voice was shouting but it took him a little time to work through the throbbing pain in his head and back to realize that it was his grandson, Findaráto, apparently berating someone. _Who could he be talking to out here?_

"—Anatto's hurt bad! All because you lost your temper! Anatto told me that you loved us, but instead you almost killed him!"

"I'm sorry, so sorry!"

Olwë, surprised at recognizing the penitent voice, opened his eyes to the unimaginable sight of Findaráto, soaking wet and furious, shaking his finger at Lord Ossë. The Maia was seated tailor-fashion on the deck, his shoulders hunched, wringing his hands in his lap, and his luminous face was streaked with tears.

"Sorry isn't going to help Annato, Ossë! Our sail is gone, and I can't row a boat this size!" the not-yet-adolescent elfling snapped, stamping his booted foot on the deck for good measure.

"Finda?" Olwë winced at how shaky his voice sounded. He tried to extend a hand towards his grandson, but went still once more as the movement made the pain worse.

"Olwë!" Ossë gasped. "I'm sorry, Olwë, I'm truly sorry!"

Findaráto hurried to kneel next to Olwë. "Anatto! You're awake!" The youth gingerly touched Olwë's forehead. "You hit your head on the rail when the top of the mast broke and fell on you, and then the sail blew away. I thought you were dead!"

"Lord Námo didn't call my name this time. How did you get the mast off of me?"

Findaráto flushed, "I started screaming, Anatto. Um—I called Ossë—"

"Lord Ossë," Olwë corrected automatically.

The young prince scowled but corrected himself, "I called Lord Ossë some names, and yelled that it was his fault. Then--"

Ossë reached over and brushed a strand of Olwë's hair away from his eyes. "I heard him and came rushing in to see just who was ready to consign me to the void. He was trying to move the mast off of your shoulder, so I lifted it off, and we found you still lived. I'm sorry, Olwë. I'm sorry you're hurt. I'm sorry I scared Findaráto. I didn't know you were out sailing."

The king closed his eyes as Ossë continued to apologize, then interrupted, "How far are we from home?"

About two hours if only we had a working sail," Findaráto told him. "The storm blew us a long way off course."

"I can take you home. It wouldn't take a moment to get you there," Ossë offered.

Olwë considered that before responding, "I hope you aren't asking me to abandon my sailboat out in the middle of nowhere." Despite the ongoing headache and the pain in his neck and shoulders, Olwë managed to raise an eyebrow at the Maia.

Ossë looked a bit offended. "Of course I wouldn't do that." His expression changed and he looked suddenly anxious. "You do believe me, don't you, Olwë? I never meant for anything like this to happen to you."

Olwë couldn't help laughing at Ossë's mercurial emotional shift, then moaned as his battered body protested. "Valar, Ossë! If this is what I feel like when I'm not the target of your wrath, I do not wish to be the focus of your anger."

"I'm sorry."

"Enough sorries!" Findaráto, impatient, slapped his hand on the deck. "How are we getting the sailboat and us home? Anatto needs a healer soon. Fly?"

Ossë went still and then a smile slowly crept across his face. "Do you trust me, meldonya?"

Olwë stared up at his friend and said, unhesitatingly, "Of course."

The Maia's incarnate form shimmered and shifted. Findaráto gasped and stared. Olwë smiled.

The large white swan brushed a wingtip against Olwë's cheek, and blinked an onyx coloured eye at Findaráto, before seizing the end of the forward mooring rope in his beak, and launching himself into the cloudy sky.

TBC

(written Nov. 13 & 14, 2008)


	14. 14 Apology

**Disclaimer:** This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**Apology**

by Rhyselle

"Anatto, wake up. You can't sleep yet."

Olwë opened his eyes and found what appeared to be two Findarátos leaning over him. He squinted to bring his grandson into focus. "I'm awake, hínya."

"Anatto, may I ask you something?"

A drop of water splashed on Olwë's face from a strand of Findaráto's hair, and the ellon hurriedly wiped it away, and pushed the golden lock aside. Over the youth's shoulder, the injured king could see Ossë, still in swan form, pulling the battered sailboat back towards the harbour at Alqualonde.

"Of course you may." Perhaps answering questions would help make staying awake easier.

Findaráto whispered, "Is-is Lord Ulmo going to be angry that I cursed at Lord Ossë?"

Olwë smiled gently at his grandson. "Do you think that he should be, Finda?"

He hunched his shoulders and looked down, then nodded. "I was awfully rude."

"You were frightened and angry. Sometimes it's very hard to not be discourteous when you are afraid."

"But—" The youngster broke off a bit of lembas from their forgotten lunch, and offered it to Olwë.

After opening his mouth for the fragment, and letting it dissolve on his tongue, the king prompted, "But?"

"Being angry isn't an excuse, Ammë says."

"Well, your Ammë is a very wise elleth. What do you think she would tell you to do?"

Before Findaráto could reply, a host of gulls swept above them, screeching a noisy welcome home as Ossë drew them through the arched harbour entrance. All became pandemonium as the Maia alighted on the dock and transformed in time to prevent the damaged craft from banging against the pier.

Olwë gritted his teeth as even the gentle lurch as the sailboat stopped jarred his cracked head and broken shoulder blade. The dock workers swarmed in, and healers were swiftly summoned. He saw Findaráto scooped up, wrapped in a blanket and carried to the quay, and he tried to reassure the worried elves who had taken the ellon's place.

The healers carefully transferred him to a litter and he blacked out briefly as they lifted it up over the railing. But before he was carried up to the palace, he came around enough to hear Findaráto's voice.

"Lord Ossë, I'm very, very sorry that I called you all those awful things. Will you please forgive me for being so discourteous?"

Olwë turned his head despite the dreadful throbbing, and smiled as he saw the Maia pull the young prince into a hug.

(written Nov. 15 & 16, 2008)


	15. 15 Obdurate

**Disclaimer:** This fic is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the Tolkien Estate, or any of their licensees. It was written soley for the enjoyment of the writer and the readers.

**Obdurate**

by Rhyselle

(300 words)

"Let me pass!" Olwë snarled at the guard who blocked the door.

"No, my king." The ellon would not be moved.

"By the Valar! You forget your place, Captain! They are killing my people; stealing our ships!" Olwë, furious, betrayed and desperate, cast a glance out of the window that overlooked the harbour. Far too clearly he could see the bodies that lay strewn on the encarmined stone quays as a new wave of Noldorin warriors swept in like the toxic red tide that brought death to the bejeweled shores without warning.

The warrior remained as obdurate as the Pelori. "My duty is to see you safe, my king. And if you go down to the harbour, I will not be able to protect you from the followers of the rebellious sons of Finwë. They kill even their own people in their madness!"

Olwë shoved the younger elf out of the way only to find three more before him. Undeterred, he threw himself at them, struggling against the hands that that restrained him, even going so far as to snatch a dagger from one of their belts.

"My sons are out there!" His desolate wail echoed the fear in his heart. He wrenched free of their hands, wild-eyed and blinded by anguish and terror. The guardsmen danced back out of range as he swept the weapon before him.

"Olwë, stop!" Lirillë's voice cut through the torment in his mind, and he turned to look where she sat, the tapestry work forgotten on her lap, her face grief-stricken.

He looked from his wife to the knife in his fist, and dropped to his knees, horror-struck at what he might have done. The pearl-handled blade trembled, gleaming in the lamplight, then tumbled to the floor.

Olwe wept, impotent to stop the Kinslaying.


End file.
